Qianzihu Lake is not large; it backs onto the imperial palace, with a Fubo Garden built on its southern shore. The surroundings are filled with the residences of palace officials as well as Buddhist temples and Daoist monasteries. Many buildings are still unfinished; from a distance, one can see tiny figures slowly moving atop tall scaffolding, with faint shouts drifting over—those are the laborers on the ground working together to transport wood, stone, and sand.

The Youxue Hall does not teach only one subject. Several scholars led nearly a hundred students to wait on the grassy lakeshore, and only after an hour were they permitted to enter Fubo Garden. From that moment on, every teacher and student held their breath and calmed their spirits, closely following the steps ahead, not daring even to lift their eyelids.

Inside Fubo Garden, rows of soldiers stood in formation, their armor gleaming in the sun, their swords and spears intimidating. The group of scholars walking among them were all trembling with fear.

The scene within the garden was quite different: red walls and green tiles, lush vegetation providing cover. One could neither see nor hear the laborers working on the opposite shore.

Everyone was led to an open area. A few scholars had small stools to sit on, but the students could only stand and were not allowed to move about. Before setting out, the scholars had already reminded them to drink less water and relieve themselves in advance, as there would be no place for convenience once they reached Fubo Garden at Qianzihu Lake.

The scenery in the garden was quite pleasant, but after a while it became tiresome. The students began to whisper among themselves, and so another hour passed. As dusk was falling, someone finally arrived to deliver an order, leading everyone into a very spacious hall.

This time, the wait was not long. Amid the sound of strings and flutes, someone loudly announced the arrival of His Highness the Crown Prince, commanding all teachers and students to kneel in welcome.

There were many royal protocols, but fortunately, every step was guided. Even when to raise their heads and when to stand was explained clearly. The scholars took the lead, and the students simply followed suit.

After the formal greeting, the three top-ranked students were called to the front to receive the Crown Prince’s commendation. The other students finally had a chance to sneak a look at the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince was a child of six or seven, thin and small, but sitting upright. His face showed little expression, his gaze was blank, as if he were a child visiting poor relatives for the first time, overwhelmed by the crowd.

The Crown Prince did not speak at all; instead, a scholar in his thirties spoke on his behalf. He was said to be an attendant of the Eastern Palace, named Stephen Lane. Charles Carter found the name somewhat familiar and soon remembered: this was the grandson of Grand Tutor Liang, who had once wanted to lead troops to Bingzhou to quell a rebellion, but was overruled by the Grand General.

The three top-ranked students recited their essays aloud. The Eastern Palace attendant Stephen Lane posed several questions for them to answer; the whole process took less than half an hour.

The main event was the banquet that followed. By then, it was already dark outside. Numerous servants filed in, arranging tables and chairs in order. The teachers and students kowtowed in thanks, then took their seats—one table per scholar, two students per table.

Fine wine and delicacies appeared on the tables as if by magic. The students were already famished, but only dared to swallow their saliva in secret, not daring to move a muscle.

Stephen Lane stood by the Crown Prince’s side, raising his cup to give toasts. The first cup wished for peace throughout the land, the second for the Emperor and Empress’s long life and happiness, the third for the Crown Prince’s daily progress.

Just as everyone was drinking the third cup, the Crown Prince yawned. He could hardly be blamed—over a hundred adults were drinking merrily, while he sat bored with only a cup of water.

The first three cups were only the beginning. Soon, teachers and students took turns toasting in order—sometimes alone, sometimes in groups of three or five. From the moment they stood up, they had to observe many rules: their wide sleeves had to hang just right, their arms could not tremble noticeably, kneeling was not required, but they had to stand with legs apart, bend their upper bodies straight down, and not spill a drop of wine. The toasts could be long-winded, but could not repeat what others had said before...

Still, it was Stephen Lane who replied and drank on behalf of the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince at most nodded or uttered an “oh,” occasionally sipping water, never touching the dishes on the table.

Charles Carter joined a group of students to offer a toast, each saying a word of gratitude.

After everyone had taken a turn, the Crown Prince rose, raised his cup of water, and toasted everyone in return, then took his leave. Stephen Lane stayed behind to host the teachers and students of Youxue Hall on his behalf—of course, all these words came from Stephen Lane, as the Crown Prince did not utter a single word and left with a light step.

With the Crown Prince gone, the atmosphere in the hall became livelier. Stephen Lane no longer represented the Crown Prince, but mingled with several Eastern Palace officials, drinking and chatting with everyone. Gradually, people relaxed, left their seats, toasted each other all around, and laughter and conversation filled the air—no more need to observe any rules.

Charles Carter had to look after the book chest, so he did not drink much. Over there, Edward Reed could not hold his liquor; not long after the Crown Prince left, he too tried to take his leave, but was forcibly held down by several people and made to drink much more.

By the time he was finally able to get up, Edward Reed was already staggering. Charles Carter hurriedly shouldered the book chest and ran through the crowd to help him.

“Old, I’m old,” Edward Reed sighed. “I can’t keep up anymore, I really can’t drink any more…”

Fubo Garden had arranged accommodations for everyone. Stephen Lane personally escorted them to the door, instructing a servant outside to take Edward Reed to his room to rest.

The night was as clear as water. The servant walked ahead with a lantern, while Charles Carter supported Edward Reed and followed behind. Though it was already autumn, the fragrance in the garden had not faded, wafting into their noses in waves.